


That all you got?

by SinfulRaindrop



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom Megatron, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, so is prowl, starscreams there for a second
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:34:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17278043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinfulRaindrop/pseuds/SinfulRaindrop
Summary: Megatron and Optimus do the do. That's it, that's the fanfic.





	That all you got?

Peace talks had been dragging on for deca-cycles, running around in proverbial circles as Starscream battled for Decepticon rights and Ultra Magnus refused to compromise on nearly everything. Every argument dissolved into petty name calling and screeches (all of which came from Starscream but, as Optimus made it a point to end each meeting diplomatically, pointing servos had become strictly off limits.). This meeting was no different.

“I don’t see _why_ this is such an _Issue_ with you _Autobot's_!” Starscream screeched nearly standing as he stared down a scowling Prowl.

“Your Decepticon's have been _interfacing_ in the _halls_!” Megatron hid his near scoff by clearing his vocalizer as quietly as he could. Prowl was seething, and not for the first time in one of their meetings, door wings high in an angry v. “Its indecent!”

Starscream only rolled his optics and waved his hand through the argument.

“Oh, it’s not like autobots haven’t been caught doing it too.” It was true, Autobot's and Decepticon's, namely Autobot's  _with_ Decepticon's, had been caught in equal measure. Interfacing in and on anything that could hold them, modesty thought of or not.

A quiet sigh came short from Optimus, probably in hopes of preventing it being heard, catching Megatron’s attention. The meeting would be over soon. Trying to keep his growing agitation at an acceptable level Megatron schooled his face plates into a neutral expression.

“Starscream, I know your sway with the Decepticon's is great, they often look to you for what to do at any given situation at times of uncertainty, talk to them. Ask them to try keeping intimate acts to private places.” Optimus sounded every bit the diplomat, but there was a balance they had to keep, and if Optimus felt the need to ask something of the Decepticon's then something of the Autobot's had to be asked in turn.

“I’m sure Ultra Magnus wouldn’t also mind _reminding_ the autobot's to take their partners to a more,” fighting the urge to snap in a way that would get Optimus to stare at him like some sort of kicked turbohound, “ _private_ place to conduct their interaction.”

Grudging acceptance was pulled from Prowl as he settled under Jazz’s smirk. Starscream simply laughed without reserve and hissed something about Autobots being prudes.

“I believe that will be a good ending point for this meeting.” Optimus stood, Megatron following close behind.

“As good as any, Prime.”

And with that the meeting was adjourned, the others left to their respective posts, though Megatron had his suspicions about Prowl and Jazz (He knew that look burning in Jazz’s visor). He sighed, dragging a servo down his face.

 “This is entirely ridiculous,” Megatron said turning to Optimus as the door to their meeting room shut behind the last mech.

 “As much of our interactions have been,” their was mirth in Optimus’s optics, putting a shine to them. Megatron sneered drumming his fingers against his arm.

 “And what, Prime, has you so _amused_?”

 “You, I’m afraid.”

 “You were far easier to understand on the battlefield, Prime.”

 That, apparently was the wrong thing to say. Optimus’s optics darkened, all signs of mirth leaving them cold, but only for a moment. Cold dissipated into that same _Primely sorrow_ that leaked into the words he spoke.

 “Do you truly wish us to be across a battlefield?” Guilt, unwanted and unwarranted leaked into Megatron’s field as he sighed once again. He felt impossibly old.

 “No,” once again he ran a servo down his face. Another sigh was working its way to his lips but Optimus’s face was preventing it from passing, appearing far closer than felt necessary.

 “What is wrong Megatron, you are restless,” Megatron snorted at the question.

 “Ah, I wonder _why._ With all our time taken up by _pointless complaints_ it’s a wonder I have energy to spare at _all_.” Optimus stared, optics narrowing in concern before lighting again. For a moment Megatron struggled to place the emotion behind that light.

 “Then perhaps we could move to a more _private_ _location_ to conduct our _interactions_  and burn off that excess energy _._ ” Megatron startled, shuttered his optics and reran the audio file three times before looking at the Prime in shock.

 “Excuse me?” it was mirth, Megatron had finally determined, lighting up the Prime’s optics. Though the realization came as Optimus pushed into his personal space.

 “I think I was quite clear, Megatron.” millions of years of war and it was the rumble of Optimus’s voice paired with the offer that left Megatron flustered.

 Before Megatron could say a word Optimus’s battle mask slid back and bared lips brushed against his. Optimus paused, held still, lips lightly held to each other, before pulling back.

 “Unless you do not-” Megatron surged forward, all denta and furious passion. Optimus teetered on his peds before moving forward with force, pinning Megatron to the meeting table. Megatron moaned, grabbing Optimus’s shoulders and pulled him closer for the kiss. A laugh rumbled up through Optimus’s chest, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

 Optimus pressed closer, leg sliding between Megatron’s to grind up against his panel. Megatron gasped, pulling away from the kiss as his cooling fans kicked on with a passion. Optimus didn’t stop. Pressing closer his attention fell on Megatron’s neck, a warm glossa traced an energon line, denta pressing down just enough to be felt. A shudder ran down his back strut as Optimus pressed his thigh closer, only to grab at Megatron’s thighs and propping him on the table.

 “Perhaps,” Megatron bit his lip to stifle a moan, “I will take you up on that offer of a more _private_ -!” his servo jolted away from its spot on Optimus’s shoulder to cover his mouth. Optimus’s own servo had slid low, massaging against the warm panel it had found. Megatron bit down on his servo, legs jumping against Optimus’s hips.

 “Hmm, I think I like the sight of you here.” Megatron cursed, struggling as Optimus laughed.

 

The stumble, as it was far from casual march, to one of their habsuits was rushed, to say the least. Optimus’s, being his ship, was closest, and as such their destination.

 They made it to the hall.

Optimus groaned, fumbling with the keypad to his room. Megatron pressed against his back, servos wandering lower as the door finally slid open. Together they tumbled into the room, groping at each other like desperate new builds. Staggering through the dark room for any surface trusted enough to hold their weight.

Megatron gasped as his back slammed against a wall. Optimus’s servos traced every seem they could, drawing slow and attentive whenever he got a reaction out of a spot. He was moving lower, pressing lips and glossa to every spot he could reach in their rushed pace.

 “Open for me.” Megatron groaned as the words rumbled across his interface array, while he would never admit it out loud he couldn’t have stopped his panels from snapping open if he had tried.

 Optimus blew cool air over Megatron’s exposed valve, pressing forward in a kiss. His glossa ran a broad strip up the soft folds as one arm braced across twitching hips and the other ran up and down his thighs. Megatron shuddered, bracing against Optimus’s shoulders as pleasure jolted up and down his back strut. Optimus, intent on enjoying as much as he could, pressing his glossa past the plump folds. He circled the anterior nod before slipping a finger in and _sucking_.

 Megatron cried out in an arch, hips jerking into the arm as his valve cycled down on the finger.

 “You’re sensitive,” Optimus pressed back in to give another processor blowing suck and slid another finger besides the first, starting to stretch him. “Such a delight every time”

 Megatron whined, nearly doubling over Optimus as he began to stretch him. Fingers searching out nodes and staying only long enough to find the sensitive ones. He was wet, dripping wet, Optimus’s servo was soaked, and his third finger slid in obscenely easily as Megatron keened.

 “For frags sake Optimus, get in me!” it was every bit the command that was appropriate of Lord Megatron, and who was Optimus now to deny his ally.

 Optimus stood in a fluid motion, grabbing one of Meatrons legs and hiking it up to his hip as his spike pressurized directly into the waiting valve in front of it. Megatron gave a shaky sigh, head thunking back against the wall he was pressed against. Optimus started a slow pace, feeling the tight drag in and out, wet folds welcoming his spike and clenching around it as it left.

 “Optimus,” Megatron groaned, face pinched in pleasure that was just _so close_ and yet _so far_ from enough.

 “Yes?” Optimus pressed close and rolled his hips in a heavy deep _grind._ Leaving Megatron spitting static.

 “Fragging,” he thrashed, forcing Optimus to grab hold of his arms and pin them, “Faster!”

 Optimus laughed, pulled out, and slammed back in. pressing his face into the crook of Megatron’s neck, mouthing at the cables. picking up the pace as Megatron cried out with the rising charge.

 Overload came in a crashing wave for Megatron, leaving his cooling fans whirring to keep up, but the brutal pace didn’t slow. Optimus kept going, fragging through the twitching valve, dragging out the overload, until Megatron couldn’t stifle the mewls and whines of pleasure.

 The constant pressure pushed Megatron into a second overload, and then a third, and right as he was cresting on a fourth Optimus pressed deep into the twitching sensitive valve and overloaded, letting the cycle valve milk his spike for all it had to give.

 Megatron squirmed, moaned at the spike still fully pressurized in his valve, and laughed, sucking in air to cool his heated systems.

 “That all you got, Prime?” Optimus’s denta ghosted over cables and energon lines before biting down and thrusting once again.

 

They had been fragging for hours. Megatron gasped, servos scrabbling against the berth as Optimus grabbed firm to his hips and pressed on at brutal pace. Groaning Optimus pressed deep, overload washing over him. Megatron grit his denta trough his own moan as he followed Optimus over in overload.

They both gasped, armor pinging with heat, bodies shaking with exertion. Megatron’s head sagged between his shoulders as a low breathless laugh rumbled up from his chest.

“Well Prime, that was certainly reminiscent of our meetings on the battlefields.” Optimus only hummed, rolling his hips, spike still fully seated in the flexing valve, and blew a cool rush of air across Megatron’s back. Megatron groaned leaning back to push against Optimus but, gave a slight wheeze as his arms gave out.

“Frag,” Optimus stopped, servos wandering across Megatron’s sides and back, “Are you okay?”

“Optimus! I swear by Primus if you stop I’ll-” Megatron’s words cut off in a strangled keen as Optimus continued his tortuously slow pace. He gasped, tried to get his arms below himself only to moan and collapse chest first into the birth again.

Optimus pulled back.

“Optimus!” Megatron tried to put force behind the name but it only sounded like a desperate plea. He _was_ desperate, cooling fans screaming, valve hat and wanting, and body unable to hold its own weight.

“Relax Megatron,” Optimus moved back, lifting Megatron’s leg to prop it against his hip, turning him onto his side in the process, “we’re not done here,” he purred before angling his spike and pressing into Megatron’s twitching valve.

A wet squelching noise filled the air obscenely from Megatron’s soaking valve. He gasped and moaned, pressing his face into the crook of his arm, cooling fans roaring to life.

“Comfortable Megatron?” Optimus punctuated the question with a harder thrust that had Megatron choking on a sob of pleasure.

They rocked together, Megatron nearly delusional with the pleasure, valve cycling tighter and tighter as overload crept closer and closer. Little gaspes and whines slipping out between bursts of static.

 With a final deep thrust, Megatron was thrown into overload screaming, Optimus close behind.

 Optimus pulled out, pulling a cloth from the side table to wipe up the majority of the mess he could, and depressurized his spike. Collapsing to his side he dragged Megatron close, chest to back and fell into recharge.


End file.
